


Scouting Hazards

by WestOrEast



Category: Original Work
Genre: Black Character(s), F/M, Girl Scouts, Loli, Loss of Virginity, POV Second Person, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 07:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17803964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WestOrEast/pseuds/WestOrEast
Summary: You're so happy to be a Girl Scout! Selling your cookies, making people happy, it's all so fun. And when a man invites you into his house to cool off while you sell him some cookies, you don't hesitate for a second! And boy, you find a way to sell a whole lot of cookies.





	Scouting Hazards

**Scouting Hazards**

  
You smile widely as you knock on the door. Today was going so _good_. You had already sold plenty of cookies, and you still had plenty more houses to go. You hope whoever lived here buys some, too.  
  
The door opens, and you stare upwards at a man. You smile widely, holding up your box of Thin Mints as you look at him.  
  
“Good morning, mister! I’m Annabelle, from Girl Scout Troop Sixty-Nine! I’m selling cookies to raise money. Would you like to buy some?” You wave your hand behind yourself, at the wagon half-full of cookie boxes.  
  
“Cookies, huh?” The man asks, looking down at you and then at your box. You smile as brightly as you can, as brightly as you feel. “Why don’t you come inside and sell me on your stuff?”  
  
It was _very_ hot out today. You were sweating through your green and white uniform, and your thin white shirt was starting to stick to your skin. Getting inside sounded like a good idea. And this man seemed like a nice person. So did everyone, really.  
  
“Sure,” You chirp, stepping forward and pulling your wagon after you. “I hope you’re having a good day, mister!”  
  
“It’s about to get better,” he mutters to himself, closing the door behind you.  
  
You smile at that. Your presence was _already_ making him happy! That was great. Feeling happy meant feeling good, and you want everyone you meet to feel good. That’s one of the reasons you’re so happy all the time! Because if people saw you being happy, then they would feel happy, and that would make _you_ feel happy all over again!  
  
The man gets you a big glass of water, which you drain eagerly. So eagerly, in fact, that some of it slips out the corners of your mouth and runs down your chin, before dropping onto your chest. You shiver a bit, feeling the ice cold water soak through your thin shirt.  
  
You pout slightly, looking down at your shirt, before looking up. The man is staring, too, even longer then you were! Then he shakes his head and looks up.  
  
“Well, that’s no good. Let me go get you a napkin.”  
  
How nice of him to be so concerned! Honestly, though, it feels kind of nice, the cold water against your skin. Even if it does make you feel a bit funny, as it slides past your nipples. But, then again, there was a lot about your chest that was making you feel funny recently. Your breasts were starting to get bigger, for one. There’s just a bit of softness to them, instead of being flat and hard like they had always been. You haven’t told your mother yet, because you don’t want to go on a diet like she always is.  
  
The man leans forward, holding a napkin in his hand. He starts dabbing at your chest, pressing against your shirt with his hand. His other hand is holding onto your shoulder. His face is right up close to yours. He must _really_ want to do a good job in making certain you get clean!  
  
“Gee, thanks, mister,” you say as he switches from one spill spot to another. He’s a bit late, though. Your shirt is already clinging to your skin, and you can kind-of, sort-of see the color of your black skin through it. “You’re really a nice guy, you know that?”  
  
“So I’ve heard,” he says, smiling a bit. “Now, about your cookies.”  
  
“Yes?” You ask eagerly. You’d already sold a lot of them, but there’s still plenty more of every flavor to buy.  
  
“I’d be willing to buy several boxes from you, in exchange for you spending a bit more time here.”  
  
You don’t even need to think about it to nod yes. _Several_ boxes, however many that ends up being, has _got_ to be enough to put you over the edge! And that means the entire scouting troop will be able to get ice cream! And you _love_ ice cream. Even if you’re such a messy eater you end up spreading the white, sticky stuff all over your black cheeks as you eat it.  
  
“Of _course_ , mister!” You say, nodding your head and making your pigtails flop against the back of your neck. “How many boxes? What flavors do you want?”  
  
“Why don’t you come over here and sit down, so we can talk about it?” The man says, leading you into his living room.  
  
You trot along after him, looking all around. What a nice place this man has. The man sits down on the middle of his couch, and pats the spot right next to him. You sit down, aware of how close the two of you are. And of how long it’s taking for your shirt to dry out.  
  
“So,” the man says, draping an arm across your shoulders, “if I’m going to be giving so much money to you girls, I’m going to want more in return then just some cookies. Understand?”  
  
Not really, no. But you’re willing to try to understand! The man’s other hand is fumbling with his pants. You have no idea what he’s doing. He isn’t going to go to the bathroom here, is he? _Gross_.  
  
“I want _you_ , Annabelle, to spend some special time with me. I’ll buy plenty of your cookies if you do that. Got it?”  
  
“Um, sure,” you say, nothing else occurring to you.  
  
“Good,” he says, pulling his pants down a bit. “Now, I want you to wrap those cute little lips around this.”  
  
Your cute little lips are about as widely parted as they can be. What’s he doing? You know that girls and boys are different down there, from playing with your brothers. But your brothers never looked like _that_. It was so big and thick and standing up instead of hanging down between his legs.  
  
“But, why?” You ask. You can feel his hand on your shoulder, through your vest and shirt.  
  
“Because it will make me feel good,” the man says. “And it will feel good for _you_ to sell a bunch of cookies. It all makes sense, doesn’t it?”  
  
You nod slowly. It _does_ make sense. Well, kind of. You’re still not sure _how_ you’re making him feel good. But all of your friends in the troop will be _so_ happy if you sell enough cookies. So…  
  
You lean to your side, trying to get your lips around the man’s thingie. You had _no_ idea a guy’s thing could get so big. It only seems to get bigger the closer you get to it. And you think you can kind of, sort of, smell something. You don’t know what it is you’re smelling, though. You’re already so close to him that you can actually feel your breath puffing off of him and bouncing back against your cheeks.  
  
As you lean to look down at it, the man’s hand slips down off of your shoulder. Right onto your chest, in fact. And he doesn’t move it back up.  
  
Instead, he keeps his hand on your chest. In fact, he’s even kind of squeezing down, his fingers pressing against your body. You lift your head to look up at him, confused.  
  
“Um, mister? What are you doing?”  
  
“You have a really nice body, you know that?” The man asked, not _really_ answering your question. “But it seems that you’re still so _hot_. How about I help you with that?”  
  
You are feeling hot, even after the water and coming inside. But you’re not really certain how having another person touching you is going to help you cool off.  
  
“Why don’t we let your skin breathe a bit more,” the man says, his hands moving from your chest to fumble at your buttons. “That way the air can move over your skin, without getting caught by the clothes.”  
  
That made sense, kind of. You _had_ gone to sleep last night completely naked, on top of your sheets, letting the fan blow over your body. And you had never _quite_ gotten why you were supposed to wear a bunch of clothes when it was so hot out anyway. It was so much easier to just run around and let the breeze cool you off.  
  
Still not entirely sure if you were doing the right thing, you helped the man undress you. Well, partly, at least. He undid the buttons on your white shirt and twitched the two halves aside. But he still kept it and your green vest on you. You looked down at all the bare, black skin you were showing, and then back up at him.  
  
“Shouldn’t I take it actually off?” You ask, your hands rising to grab the sides of your shirt.  
  
“No, no, no,” the man says quickly. “You wouldn’t want to be out of uniform while doing Girl Scout business, would you?”  
  
That made sense. Mrs. Ruth always scolded you girls if someone showed up without their hat or something. And even just this was feeling a lot better, letting the cooler air of the house flow over your skin. You giggle a bit, feeling how it moves over your nipples, as well.  
  
“Yeah, you look good,” the man says, looking down at you. He’s smiling widely, and you nervously smile back. “Damn, your going to look even better once you hit puberty, aren’t you girl?”  
  
Maybe? You really had no idea what puberty was, exactly, or how it would change your body. But more importantly…  
  
“Don’t swear,” you say, scowling at him. “It’s not nice.”  
  
“Sorry, sorry,” he says, chuckling. “Now, how about you get back to business? My dick’s waiting for you.”  
  
You swallow, looking back down at the man’s penis. As you do so, his hand returns to your chest, landing right over your nipple! For some reason, it feels good as his palm starts to rub against it.  
  
You move your head from side to side, trying to figure out how you’re supposed to do this. And _why_ you’re supposed to be doing this. Beyond helping everyone get the ice cream party, of course. You lean down, and your cheek slides past the man’s shaft, rubbing against it.  
  
“Nah, nah,” the man says. “Get down on the floor and it will be easier on you.”  
  
You have to trust him on that. You slide off the couch and get between his legs. You kneel down, your white-stockinged legs hitting the carpeted floor. You look up at the man, and see his funny smile looking back down at you.  
  
You slowly reach up and wrap your hands around the base of the man’s thing. A penis, you think it’s called. You gasp, shocked at how warm it is. You had no idea penises could get so hot. And so _hard_ , too. You squeeze down a bit, and it barely gives at all.  
  
“That’s right,” the man says. “Now give my cock a kiss.”  
  
You glance up at him, frowning. You can guess what a cock is, you’re not stupid, after all. But you’re still not certain _why_ he wants you to kiss it. _Remember the ice cream, Annabelle_ , you tell yourself.  
  
Craning your head forward, you plant a kiss on the tip of the man’s thing, right where it comes to an end. You give good kisses, you’ve been told. Your family, your teachers, you’ve kissed a lot of people, and they all told you how sweet you were for doing it. But it’s never been anywhere but on the cheeks. This is a brand new experience for you.  
  
You jump a bit as the man puts both his hands on the back of your head. You look up at him, frowning. He smiles back down at you and nods towards his penis again. You kiss it again, feeling the hot, hard thing pressing against your lips.  
  
“Good, now, open wide and suck on it, like a lollipop,” the man says. “And don’t you dare use your teeth, you hear me?”  
  
You hear him. You’re not sure _why_ you shouldn’t use your teeth, but you won’t. You are sure that he has a good reason for it.  
  
You open your mouth as wide as you can, and lean forward. It’s still barely enough to fit, the man’s penis lightly pressing against your lips. You frown, as much as you can. There’s a funny taste there, not quite like anything else you’ve ever tasted. But you keep on going, sliding down the man’s penis until your mouth is filled.  
  
Your eyes are starting to water as you try to swallow with the man’s penis so far inside your mouth. You can’t, and when you try to slide back up, the man presses down, keeping your head trapped there.  
  
“Mmph!” you squeal, rolling your eyes upward to look at him. “Mmmgr!”  
  
“That’s right, little girl,” the man says, grabbing your pigtails. “Now that you’ve got the idea, I’m going to show you how it’s really done.”  
  
The man leans back on the sofa, and pulls back on your hair. You squeal as you’re pulled backwards, but there’s nothing you can do. You can’t even bite down. The man’s thing is spreading your jaws out far too much, even if you wanted to hurt him.  
  
Then he pulls back down on your head, tugging you back down his shaft. It hurts, again, and you feel your mouth getting filled up with his penis. How can this be feeling good for him? But he keeps on going, tugging at your hair, pushing and pulling you up and down along his penis.  
  
You don’t like it. Your hair hurts where he’s pulling on it, and you can’t swallow and your jaw is starting to hurt. He better buy a _lot_ of cookies.  
  
“Fuck!” The man says. You wonder what that word means. “Here it comes, girly!”  
  
Here comes what? You have no idea, and you’re just glad he pulled you off of his penis, even if it still hurts your hair. He doesn’t pull you very far back, though. Just far enough for his penis to slip out of your mouth and land against your face.  
  
You cross your eyes, trying to look down at it. Then you feel the penis twitch, sliding across your face. You open your mouth, when-  
  
_Something_ starts shooting out from the man’s penis. It lands on you, lands all over your face. You blink, jerking your head back in surprise. It doesn’t do much, of course, since the man is still holding onto your hair. It’s all so close to your face, and happening so quickly, that you don’t get the chance to really understand what’s happening.  
  
All you know is that something white is landing on your face. All over your face, in fact. Most of it is on your cheeks, but you feel some of it across your nose, and some even gets into your mouth.  
  
You don’t like the taste of that at _all_. You quickly close your mouth and then swallow, feeling the slimy stuff getting forced down your throat. You cross your eyes, trying to look down at your face. All you can really see is some white stuff at the very bottom of your vision.  
  
“Damn, normally I’ve got better endurance then that,” the man says, laughing for some reason. “But a cute little black girl like you? I just can’t hold it in.”  
  
You barely listen to him, and don’t really understand what you hear anyway. Instead, you run your hands along your face, looking down at them as you pull them away. They’re _covered_ in whatever it is, webs of glistening white stuff sagging between your spread fingers. You look down at them, up at the man, and then down at them again. What just happened?  
  
“You made me cum, that’s what happened,” the man says, sounding amused. You hadn’t even realized you had spoken. “And man, it felt good. Good work, Annabelle,” he adds, patting the top of your head.  
  
You’d like the compliment more if you had the slightest idea what had just happened, or if it hadn’t hurt so much. Your hair still aches a bit.  
  
“I’m going to go get cleaned up,” you say, not entirely sure if you’re going to go look for a bathroom or just the front door.  
  
But as you try to stand up, the man puts a hand on your shoulder, forcing you back to your knees. You stare, almost _glare_ up at him, not sure what he’s trying to do.  
  
“Nah, nah, that’s a good look for you,” the man says. “Doesn’t it feel nice, all that cum sitting on your face?”  
  
It feels _weird_. Not good, not bad, just flat-out _weird_. You’re not a fan of it, but you can’t even begin to say _why_ you’re not a fan. But from the look the man is giving you, he _really_ likes. It’s kind of a weird smile, but still a happy one. Kind of.  
  
You pat your face again, feeling your hands sliding against the… cum? Yeah, that’s what he called it. You know you’re smearing it along your cheeks, but you don’t really care. Not if it lets you get a better feel for what this really is.  
  
“Man, girly, you’re getting me hard again,” the man grunts. He thrusts his hips out, showing off his penis. And it _is_ getting hard again. In fact, you had barely even noticed it going soft. “I hope you’re ready to be a good scout and take care of the problem you’re causing.”  
  
You nod automatically, because you are a good Girl Scout and you want to continue being a good Girl Scout. Even though you have no idea what the problem is, or how you should take care of it. This guy seems kind of weird.  
  
“So, Annabelle,” the man asks, leaning forward and putting his hands on your body. “Are you a virgin?”  
  
You are, actually. You’re not sure _why_ it’s so important that you’re a virgin, but Mom and Pastor Matt always had a lot to say about why a girl’s virginity was important. Also, you’re not exactly certain what a virgin is, beyond that you’re one. You’re pretty certain that both your parents are virgins, which is why you’re one as well. Just like why you’re black!  
  
“Yes?” You reply, hoping that he doesn’t ask any more questions, because you’re not sure what the answers should be.  
  
“Yeah, I thought so,” the man said, twitching your shirt aside, revealing your torso. You wondered why he was so interested in your chest. You know that women are supposed to be beautiful when they have big breasts, but you _don’t_. Of course, you don’t understand much of what’s happening to you. “It’s obvious you’re either a virgin or a really good actor.”  
  
You smile blankly, trying to figure out what he means. Then you get very thoroughly distracted.  
  
“O-ohh!”  
  
He just pinched your breast. His fingers were closed around your pink, puffy nipple and was lightly tugging it out. It felt _good_. Really good. You hadn’t thought that your nipples could feel that good, in fact. There’s a bit of pain, from how hard he’s squeezing. But mostly its feeling really good, as he moves around your stiff nipple.  
  
“Mister!” You squeak, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks.  
  
“Heh, feeling good, huh?” He asks, white teeth gleaming as he tugs lightly at your nipple again. “And how about your other nip?”  
  
It’s a good thing you’re already kneeling down. Because the sensation of both of your nipples getting toyed with would have been enough to send you to the ground. You shift around, feeling the sensations in your nipples and, oddly, something starting to grow in your lower belly. Something good, something _hot_.  
  
“Ah yeah, you like that, don’t you, you little slut?” The man says, laughing. “Let’s see how much you like it.”  
  
One of his hands leaves your chest. It slides down your belly, making you squirm at the feeling of warm fingers against your skin. Then he slides down, past your skirt, over your panties. You gasp, your eyes going wide.  
  
That was a part of you you weren’t supposed to show to others. But you weren’t _actually_ showing it, were you? And his hand felt really funny, and kind of good. It was still alright, you supposed. Just like when you had seen your older sister and her best friend wrestling in her bedroom with the door closed.  
  
You look down at your body. The man’s hand is inside your green skirt, up to his wrist. And you can _feel_ him making tiny gestures with his fingers, gestures that feel really, _really_ good. You moan slightly, as he presses against your panties.  
  
It’s a kind of good that you’ve never felt before. Different, _better_ then eating yummy food, then running really hard, then all the different ways you know to have fun. It’s a kind of heat, welling up inside of you. You moan softly, closing your eyes.  
  
Your panties are starting to feel funny against your skin, pressing against in you in a weird way. And there’s tingly sensations inside your lower belly. They feel _kind of_ nice, but mostly, they feel weird. Like they’re telling you you should be feeling something _more_. Even if you have no idea what that more is.  
  
“Yeah, I think you’re ready,” the man says, pulling away from you. Your eyes shoot open as your left in just your opened shirt and ruffled skirt. “Touching me with your mouth was worth three boxes of cookies. Now, I’m going to buy six boxes, if you do what I want. Got it?”  
  
Your eyes widen. Nine boxes, and maybe more. Just from a single house. What a _deal_.  
  
“Sure thing, mister,” you saw, nodding your head up and down, pigtails flying. “Whatever you say!”  
  
“Oh, I’m glad to hear that,” he says, laughing. “Follow me into the kitchen. I’m going to take you over the counter.”  
  
Take you over the counter? You’re pretty certain that the man forgot some words in that sentence. However, you still follow him, feeling the pleasure inside of you turn kind of _needy_ as you thought about how good his hands had felt on you.  
  
Once inside the kitchen, the man turns to you, gesturing at the counter behind him. It is a very big counter, for a very big kitchen. You look at it, and then at him. It’s not moving, so you’re not sure how it’s going to take you anywhere.  
  
“Okay, Annabelle,” the man says, stepping behind you. “Just step up on this box here.”  
  
You do so, feeling his hands on your hips. His fingers slip underneath your shirt, pressing against your bare skin. The box adds another foot or so to your height, though you’re still shorter then him. But as much, now!  
“Good. Now lean forward,” the man continues, pressing against the small of your back.  
  
You lean forward, and then lean even more then you thought. He keeps on pushing you until your chest is pressed against the counter. The granite feels cool against your skin, kind of good, kind of bad. Then the man twitches your shirt aside, making your nipples press directly against the counter.  
  
You squeal a bit, dancing from side to side. But the man’s grip keeps you in place, making sure you don’t go anywhere. And then you adjust to it. It actually feels kind of _good_ , with your still stiff nipples pressed against the unyielding surface.  
  
“Man, that’s a good look for you,” the man says. “And you’ve got one cute ass, too.”  
  
You frown at the unneeded swearing again. Then thoughts about bad language are driven away as he grabs onto your rear. His hands are all over your butt, kneading and groping it. And, just like your nipples, it feels kind of funny, in a good way.  
  
Not as good as when his hands were inside your panties, but still pretty good. You turn around to look at him, and see that his penis is just inches away from your rear. And that he has flipped your skirt up, and is tugging at your panties.  
  
“You won’t need these anymore, will you?” The man asks, tugging your underwear down off of you.  
  
You’re not really sure what to say, or even to think, as you see your underwear fall to the floor. You’re pretty certain he shouldn’t be doing that. On the other hand, _six_ _boxes_. That was a lot!  
  
His hands start grabbing at you again, really going at your exposed rear. You squeal and giggle. It feels a lot better then you thought it would have. His hands feel a lot warmer then they did through your clothing. And his hands are at where they were back in the living room, touching at the area your panties normally cover.  
  
He’s making you feel _tingly_ , all weird and funny. And good, too. As he rubs against you, you start gasping, feeling how his fingers slide against you. It’s an electric sensation, making you shiver as he presses against some part of you that’s feeling better and better.  
  
“That’s it. Get all nice and wet for me,” the man says, his fingers pressing against you. You twitch and squirm, feeling his fingers touching you in ways that you never would have thought to do to yourself. “You’re going to want to be soaked, after all.”  
  
You weren’t certain what he meant by that. All you could tell was that he was starting to make you feel _really_ good. Actually, now that you thought about it, you were starting to feel wet down there. You hadn’t peed, had you? That would be _humiliating_. You were a big girl, your twelfth birthday was just a few months away! But the guy sure didn’t seem to get disgusted. Instead, he just kept working away at you, fingers busy in between your thighs.  
  
You start whimpering, and, to your shock, your hips are pressing against the man’s fingers. Then you realize that actually makes perfect sense. They’re making you feel so _good_ , why wouldn’t you want to feel more of that sensation.  
  
“Yeah, you’re ready,” the man says, pulling his fingers away. “Or, at least, I can’t wait anymore! Hah!”  
  
You turn your head, looking over your shoulder. The man has straightened up, and his holding his penis in one hand. He glances up at your face before returning to look at your crotch. Just as you’re trying to find the words to ask him to bring his fingers back, he takes half a step forward.  
  
You gasp as you feel his penis pressing against you. Somehow, it feels better then his fingers ever did. You squirm around a bit, feeling his thick shaft pressing against you. What is he going to do next? And as soon as you think that, you get your answer.  
  
He slides his penis into you. Your jaw bounces against the counter. It’s _big!_ Really, really big! You squirm around, trying to get away from it. Or trying to feel more of it? You can’t tell. All you can really say for certain is that it is the _only_ thing on your mind right now.  
  
Your fingers clutch at the smooth table, the sensations inside you too much to bear. It’s intense, more then you can believe. You wish you could muster up the coordination to look over your shoulder again and see how much of him is inside you. It feels like a foot, at least, even though you would have sworn that his penis wasn’t that big to start with.  
  
You had thought the man’s fingers were making you feel good, rubbing against your crotch. But when his penis slid _inside_ you, you realize just how much better things could be. And how much more intense. The sensations coming out from your lower belly are so strong you can barely understand what you’re feeling.  
  
The man’s hands are on your hips again, squeezing down as he makes you feel so, so good. Right until he isn’t, at least. All of a sudden, you feel his penis _hitting_ something inside of you. You have no idea what it is, but it kind of hurts, as he presses against you.  
  
“Your hymen, huh?” The man asks. “Hell, it’s just slowing you down. You’ll be glad you don’t have it later.”  
  
He thrusts forward, instantly erasing all of the pleasure and good feelings with painpainpain. You yowl, trying to get away from him, trying to pull off of the thick shaft inside of you that’s hurting so badly. He doesn’t let you, and keeps you in place, bent over the kitchen counter. You kick back at him, and can barely even connect.  
  
You start crying, feeling the tears running down your face. How could he do this to you? It had been feeling so good, and now it was feeling so bad. It just wasn’t _fair_.  
  
“Ah, don’t be like that,” the man says, laughing. “In a minute or two you’ll be feeling fine. And _I_ get to deflower another virgin.”  
  
To your shame, you find out that he’s right. His thrusting continues, until he feels like he has to be about to come out of your mouth, he’s so far inside. And then he draws back out, before sliding right back in. And after a few more times of that, you discover that not only is it starting not to hurt, but that the old pleasure is beginning to return.  
  
The granite countertop is still cool underneath your overheated body, and your nipples are still digging into it. There’s not a thing you can do but lay here, and feel the man keep on thrusting into you. And you’re starting to feel that there’s nothing you _want_ to do but let him thrust into you.  
  
“See? No more of those tears,” the man says, sounding happier. “Feel how that tight pussy is wrapping down around my dick.”  
  
The man’s hands are firm on your hips, holding you in place, even if you jolt forward a bit with every thrust. You’re starting to feel a pressure building up inside of you. It’s not like anything you’ve ever felt, though the last few minutes of the man’s fingers touching you had gotten kind of close. You close your mouth, trying not to moan too loudly.  
  
“Yeah, it’s a good thing I came on your face from that blowjob,” the man says. You’re not certain if you’re supposed to say anything back, or even what you should say. So you stay quiet. “I want to make this fuck _last_.”  
  
You bring your hand up to prod at the… cum, wasn’t it? Yeah, the cum the man put on your face. It’s still all over your cheeks, in long lines. It’s starting to dry, and not be as wet and sticky. You’re not sure if that’s good or not. Then another thought comes to you.  
  
Is he going to do the same thing inside of you? Would it even fit? You’re already feeling stuffed from his penis, you don’t think you can take any more.  
  
The pleasure inside of you is starting to feel better and better. Like, better then anything else you’ve ever felt. You realize that you’re moaning, soft little sounds, and that you can’t stop, even if you wanted to.  
  
“Please, mister,” you moan, turning your head to look up at the man, “why is it feeling so good inside of me?”  
  
“Heh,” the man snorts, before reaching up and patting your head (your bare head, you must have lost your cap somewhere). “It’s because you’re a little slut, who just needs to see a cock get whipped to get wet. Aren’t you?”  
  
You have no idea what that sentence meant. But it’s obvious what answer he wants, so you nod your head. And that was obviously the right answer, given how he laughs.  
  
“Yeah, I know how to pick ‘em,” he says. “Someone like you needs a good hard dicking.”  
  
The feelings inside of you are starting to feel _really_ good. You’re having trouble thinking of anything else, feeling the man’s penis slide in and out of you. You moan, clutching at the counter, feeling a sense of _urgency_ as the pleasure builds and builds. Something is going to happen soon, and you have no idea what.  
  
And then it happens. You’re not sure _what’s_ happening, but it feels _wonderful_. The good feelings inside of you explode, running out from your belly and filling up your entire body. You moan, feeling the sea of pink that seems to be filling your body. And even your mind. It’s impossible to think of anything but how good you’re feeling and how the man’s penis is stretching you out.  
  
“Ah, ah, ah, ah,” you moan, your body jerking around on the countertop. “Good, it’s good.”  
  
“Fuck, did you just cum, you little slut?” The man asks, sounding delighted. “Fucking little underage whore, cumming before I do!”  
  
You can barely hear him. Everything inside of you is caught up in a tight, wonderful feeling. You’re barely aware of how hard you’re squeezing down around him, clenching tightly. For that matter, you were barely aware that you could squeeze down or relax around his penis.  
  
“Ah yeah, take it, bitch,” the man howls. “Take every last drop!”  
  
The man thrusts forward, making your eyes fly open widely. You hadn’t thought he could reach so deep inside of you! And now his penis is twitching, feeling really _weird_ as your own body twitches.  
  
“Gah ah! Wh-What?”  
  
There’s something happening inside of you. You have no idea what it is, but- wait, you _do_. It’s the same thing that happened on your face! But it’s so much _warmer_ now then it was. Hot, hot, hot, like it’s almost burning you. And like it’s filling you up more than you can take.  
  
It feels like the hot, white stuff is covering your insides (insides you were only barely even aware you had). And it feels kind of _good_. Not as good as the _amazing_ feeling you had a few minutes ago, but it’s still feeling really good.  
  
The man pulls out of you. It feels funny not to have something inside of you, even though you had never had anything inside before you came to this house. You slowly, carefully, stand up straight, keeping a firm grip on the counter as you do so. You feel weak enough you just might fall over if you don’t keep hold of something.  
  
You turn around to look at the man. He looks very happy as he tucks his penis back inside his pants. He looks down at you, and then further down, at your crotch. You look down as well.  
  
Your panties are still down around your ankles, but your skirt fell back into place, covering yourself up. Which is bad, because you want to see what happened to you. Not caring that the man is still watching you (after all, he’s already seen _everything_ ), you pull your skirt up and lean back, staring down.  
  
Your near-hairless crotch looks just like it always did. But your thighs, your thighs are starting to get covered in the white stuff the man shot out. It’s sliding out from inside of you, splattering white against your black skin. You reach one hand down to explore, trying to find out if it feels different.  
  
You gingerly pat your crotch, your thighs, the white stuff. Even though there’s still an ache inside of you, like you’ve been working too hard, there’s still a lot of good feeling inside of you. And there’s a lot of the white stuff too. As soon as you touch yourself, right where he entered, more of it comes oozing out, covering your fingers.  
  
You bring your hand up for a closer look. You sniff it, too, seeing what it smells like. And just like the taste you had gotten earlier, it doesn’t really smell like anything else you’ve ever heard of.  
  
“You’re a natural born slut, aren’t you?” The man asks, smiling widely as he watches you.  
  
“You were the one who put this stuff inside of me,” you respond, looking up at him.  
  
“That’s right, I did,” the man says easily. “And it made you feel good, didn’t it? So say thank you.”  
  
“Thank you, mister,” you say, glancing between him and the white stuff on your hand. You’re going to need to wash your hands.  
  
“Thank you for what, Annabelle?”  
  
You pause for a moment. Then the answer comes to you.  
  
“Thank you for making me feel good,” you say, telling the truth. “I wouldn’t have found out about this if it wasn’t for you.”  
  
“Well, I’m glad you liked it,” the man says, taking a step closer to you. “But there’s still plenty of other things I can show you.” He laughs. “They might even feel as good as that. What do you say?”  
  
“Will you buy more cookies?” You ask, aware that you’re here to sell boxes, not just to have fun.  
  
“Sure, sure,” the man replies. “I’ll buy all the cookies you have if you stick around.”  
  
_Yessssss_. Everyone was going to be so happy when you told them how well you had done! And if everything he had to show you ended up feeling as good as him putting his penis inside you had ended up feeling, then things were going to be _great_.  
  
“Okay then,” you chirp. “Just tell me what you want me to do. It won’t hurt, will it?”  
  
“I’ll feel perfectly fine, thank you for asking,” the man says, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Now, I’m going to help those tiny tits of yours grow. Hold still.”  
  
You hold as still as you can as the man starts touching your chest again. For some reason, you’re feeling really _sensitive_ there, your nipples especially. But it’s a good kind of sensitive, one that you want to feel a lot more of.  
  
You smile shyly as you glance at the man’s crotch. His penis is getting big again, you can tell. You wonder what he’s going to do with it this time.  
  
You’re going to have to tell all your friends about this house, and about how many boxes he’s willing to buy.

*******

You feel _exhausted_. Like you’ve been playing with your friends all day, running as hard as you can, climbing trees, going swimming, going as hard as you can for as long as you can. And you’ve only ever been in three rooms of the house, and only with the man.  
  
You’re also kind of a mess. You’re going to need a shower before you go to bed tonight. There’s white stuff all over your body. The man said he liked looking at you with it on you, so you didn’t remove it, even when it got itchy.  
  
There’s white stuff on your face, on your chest, on your stomach, inside you (both in your stomach and _inside_ inside you.) There’s even sticky stuff on your rear and thighs. Almost every inch of your black skin is next to some white stuff.  
  
You’ve felt that kind of pleasure again and again. Every time it happened, it left you gasping and quivering, only held up by the strong arms of the man wrapped around you. It had even happened more times then the man had put his white stuff on and in you, which he had told you felt just as good for him as it felt for you.  
  
Your Girl Scout clothes are a mess. It’s kind of a miracle they’re still on you, in fact. But the man said he _really_ liked looking at you in your clothes, which you had to agree with him. You _did_ look cute in your scouting clothes, everyone said so. Although you do think he might mean something a _bit_ different then when your mother pinches your cheek and coos over how smart you look in the green and white clothes.  
  
You rest a hand against your lower belly. You still feel very stuffed, even though the man isn’t inside of you anymore. He’s pumped so much of his stuff inside of you, you think your belly should be bulging. You’re barely able to walk (though you had gotten the motivation last time, when the man pulled out a leash and collar. Funny, but you hadn’t seen a dog here).  
  
So your spot on the floor, leaning against the foot of the couch, is quite comfortable. Or, at least, comfortable enough for you not to want to go to all of the effort of moving. Anyway, with the man right here, you can know instantly if he wants to show you something new. And you’ve already learned _so much_.  
  
There’s a knock on the door. The man gets up and walks over. You quietly stand up and follow him, wincing in a painful kind of pleasure as you feel the aches and pains inside of you. You also think walking is making more of the white stuff leak out of you and run down your thighs.  
  
The door opens to reveal your friend, Christine. She looks _cute_ in her Girl Scout uniform, and she has a small wagon half-full of cookie boxes behind her. She also looks _hot_ , strands of bright red hair sticking to her forehead, and beads of sweat on her freckled cheeks.  
  
“Hi, Mister!” Christine says. “I’m Christine, from Girl Scout Troop Sixty-Nine! I’m selling cookies to raise money. Would- Annabelle?” Christine’s voice gets even happier as she sees you. “What are you doing here?” A look of concern passes over her face. “And what happened to you?”  
  
“Come on in,” the man says, holding the door open wider for your friend. “I’ll tell you _all_ about it.”

* * *


End file.
